


like twenty below

by cockybasketball



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Crack, Gen, Ice Cream, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockybasketball/pseuds/cockybasketball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of idle chit-chat, afternoon snacks and ice creams with particularly engaging personalities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like twenty below

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sorry

When Nick pops out of the office for a quick break, nips down to the ice cream shop on the corner for a cool and refreshing snack, what he doesn’t bank on is walking out of it with an ice cream that is actually talking to him. He went for his usual favourite – one scoop bubblegum, one scoop banana and one raspberry ripple, with a flake, of course – but never before when he’s gone for this particular choice have the individual scoops of ice cream begun chattering amongst themselves. 

He doesn’t notice it, at first; strolling out of the shop, cone in hand, he heads for a bench in the park, and it’s only once he’s seated that he hears a small, squeaky, “This is it, lads.”

Nick blinks. He glances around him in search of a source, but spots absolutely nothing out of the ordinary; it’s fairly warm out, and around four in the afternoon, so the park is littered with kids just out of school lounging around without a care in the world, but there’s nobody in his immediate vicinity that the voice could’ve come from. He’s about to pass it off as his imagination, convinced he’s been going stir crazy cooped up in the office all day while all of his friends are out enjoying the sunshine, when another, slightly deeper voice pops up.

“Who do you think he’s gonna go for first?” says the voice, slowly and thoughtfully, and Nick is 99% certain he sees the banana scoop swizzle slightly. 

Utterly disbelieving and rather caught off guard, he nearly drops the entire cone all over himself and flaps his jaw about like a goldfish. His ice cream is talking to him? His ice cream is talking to him. He, Nick Grimshaw, is sitting in the park listening to an _ice cream cone_ spout _actual words_. He, Nick Grimshaw, has finally fucking lost it.

It’s then, when Nick is in the middle of his existential crisis, that a third voice cuts in. This one, honest to god, actually has an Irish accent. “If he’s even gonna feckin’ eat us at all,” it slurs, and Nick feels the wafer texture of the cone shift underneath his fingers.

“Yeh but, like,” chimes in a _fourth_ voice, and honestly Nick is starting to feel a little victimised, “when he does stop gawkin’ and takes a bite, it’s gonna be me that gets it.”

One of the scoops makes a sound that’s something like a snort. “Cocky, Zayn,” chides the first voice, before it adds, slightly softer, “But yeah, he does seem to be doing a fair bit of staring and not a lot of licking. Hop to it, lad.”

Nick has lost his appetite. He’s staring at the cone with a mixture of dubiety and genuine horror, because, honestly, _what_. He’s unaware of when it became physically possible for any kind of food to speak, but he thinks he preferred it before, when your desserts didn’t try to strike up a conversation with you.

The raspberry ripple scoop morphs it’s shape slightly until it’s forming what Nick refuses to believe is a frown, two dents appearing for eyes and an upturned U as a mouth. “He’s definitely going for me last,” it practically wails, a trickle of melting ice cream drizzling slowly down its make-do cheek. “He hesitated for _ages_ before he picked me.”

The other voices squawk loudly in response – while Nick just stares, wondering how on earth this is his life – all hurrying to comfort poor Raspberry and stop him from melting all down the side of Nick’s cone. “Don’t put yourself down, Liam,” says the bubblegum scoop, squishing itself down closer to Raspberry, or Liam, apparently, as though to pet the top of his head reassuringly. “He’s damn lucky to have you, alright?”

“Yeah,” the banana scoop adds encouragingly. “Plus, if anyone’s gonna be last, it’s obviously Niall.”

Sighing, the cone mumbles its agreement. 

So, as far as Nick is aware, these characters making up the different components of his ice cream all have names, and all know each other fairly well; or well enough, at least, to be comforting one another in their time of need. He’s still struggling to get his head around the fact that this is _actually happening_ , but as he listens to them interact he thinks, really, they’re actually kind of adorable. Which is an absolutely bizarre thought to have about a mid-afternoon snack.

“In all seriousness, though, mate,” says Zayn, who Nick now realises is the flake, “are you gonna get a move on? I en’t got all day.”

Literally what the fuck.

“Mm,” chirps Bubblegum, pushing teeny blue lips out in a pout. “I’ve never known anyone to just sit and _stare_ at an ice cream. They’re normally quite quick to guzzle ‘em down.”

“I’ve never known an ice cream to start _talking_ ,” Nick says, finally finding his voice. He’s still gaping open-mouthed as Bubblegum appears to preen, fluffing himself up to the point where he dislodges Banana slightly and Banana yelps indignantly.

Zayn is twisting inside the top of Banana, and really, if Nick didn’t know any better, he’d associate the movement with that of someone getting comfortable, settling in; in the same way he does when celebrities start fights on his Twitter timeline. He can almost _see_ the little fucker smirking as Bubblegum starts to speak again.

“Finally found your tongue then, eh, quiffy?” says Bubblegum, whose name Nick is fairly sure hasn’t been mentioned yet. “Fancy putting it to good use?”

“You guys _want_ me to eat you?” he asks incredulously, and almost drops the cone again when they all start to babble incessantly in response.

Banana mumbles in quiet confusion, Zayn exasperatedly sighs something that Nick’s sure ends in ‘dumbass’, Niall twists to scratch at his palm and Liam starts to cry again. “Well, _yes_ ,” says Bubblegum, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Is that not what you generally do with ice creams?”

Niall begins to laugh hysterically and Nick unintentionally holds onto him a little tighter until he’s crying out irately, wobbling in Nick’s palm to the annoyance of his friends.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Niall,” Bubblegum hisses, sliding so he’s perched slightly to the left on top of Liam. This one’s mouthy and bossy and Nick doesn’t really like him all that much; and for that, still really fucking confused, he pokes his tongue out and licks across the blue scoop.

Much to his surprise, Bubblegum cheers victoriously in response. The others groan, and Zayn looks almost bored, lounging in the centre of Banana as he says, “Way to fuel the kid’s ego.”

“Everyone always picks Louis,” says Liam sadly.

“Shut up,” giggles Bubblegum – Louis, twirling happily as Nick’s tongue glides across his cool outer surface. He actually does taste a lot nicer than Nick was expecting based on his almost sour, flippant tone of voice, so he takes another lick, smiling despite himself at Louis’ giddy laugh. It sounds like actual sunshine.

“Can I go next?” pipes up Banana when Nick pulls back from Louis. His words come out very slowly, like he’s nervous, like they’re forming one by one in his head, not that he has one that’s visible, and the texture of his syllables is so smooth that Nick wants to lick him all over.

He nods, smiles at Banana; had Louis not made a dig at his quiff earlier he’d have assumed that they couldn’t actually see him, what with _not having eyes_ , but apparently they can. “What’s your name, darling?” he asks, and it’s weird. It’s really weird. He’s extremely glad that nobody in the park appears to be focussing on him, because, well. He’s talking to a scoop of banana ice cream, and it’s really, really weird.

“Harry,” says the little scoop cheerily, toppling forwards slightly to lean towards Nick, dislodging a grumbling Zayn. Nick obliges his request, swiping his tongue across Harry and laughing to himself as he hears the little scoop practically purr in response.

While the rest of them continue to idly gossip amongst themselves, Nick plucks an unsuspecting Zayn from the top of Harry’s head. “Sorry, mate,” he says softly, and waits for a quiet, encouraging laugh from Zayn before he bites him in half.

Liam lets out a choked sob, but when he speaks he sounds undeniably proud. “Oh, Zaynypoo,” he whispers dramatically, and Niall huffs irritably as melting raspberry ripple ice cream starts to roll down his side. 

“Any time today would be excellent, Grimshaw,” says Louis impatiently as Nick leisurely swallows down Zayn’s other half.

Nick opens his mouth to respond with a quip about how _he’s getting there, okay?_ when he realises what Louis’ just said. “I– How do you _know my name?"_ he asks, dumbfounded. 

Louis’ only response is a small, mischievous giggle.

After that, Nick stops listening to what the little blue scoop has to say for himself. He focuses on Harry first, because his scoop is the top one, listening to the little mewling sounds he makes as Nick licks him up and down, suddenly as hungry as he was when he first left the office. He had no idea one could work up such an appetite simply by staring at something in complete shock and confusion. 

Nick works his way through the scoops, Louis’ little laugh as he licks at him still making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he feels sort of sad as he finishes Liam off. Liam’s gone all melty, dripping down inside Niall so that Nick has to sort of tip him back and drink him out, really, and as he chugs the last few drops he hears a small, timid voice say, “Thanks, Nick!” 

As he nibbles at the edge of the cone, staring off into the distance thoughtfully and wondering whether or not the four little people he’s swallowed so far are nestling in his stomach, Nick hears Niall’s laughter start to bubble up again. “What?” he demands, and as he does so a small schoolgirl walks past along the path. She blushes and hurries away, glancing over her shoulder at the insane man sitting on the bench, _talking to his ice cream cone_. Nick hates himself.

“Nothing,” laughs Niall, barely managing to get the word out inbetween his manic cackling. “Fuck, that _tickles_.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nick gently brushes his thumb up and down the side of the cone, and smiles as Niall hums happily in response. 

“Goodbye, little friend number five,” Nick sighs once he’s down to the last bite.

Niall giggles incessantly even as the last piece of him is halfway down Nick’s throat, and Nick can’t help but find himself laughing, too. He’s just eaten five actual talking components of an ice cream, each one with a different personality and a different perspective. Another average day at the office, he supposes, as he gets up off the bench, licking his fingers and heading back towards his building and the stack of paperwork that awaits him.


End file.
